Frostbite
by vehement-moth
Summary: Winter in Massachusetts is brutal enough as it is, now Alfred has to spend his days doing chores for his cold-enough neighbor, Arthur.


The best feeling in the world is sitting next to a crackling, warm fire while the harsh winter elements plague the outdoors. Nothing is more soothing than watching the flicker of orange light up the walls and knowing the cold can't breach the comforts of home.

Keeping that image in mind was the best thing Alfred could do to keep warm for the time being.

His ass was beginning to hurt from the long hours spent sitting in a hard classroom chair, and the maintenance crew was no help in turning up the heat. So, much to his distaste, his last day of school before winter break was spent in discomfort.

It wasn't all bad though, the teachers had stopped caring at this point. They were lost in their own toasty fantasies and most of them just let the kids do their own thing instead of actual schoolwork, save for a few strict ones.

Alfred drummed his fingers on his desk, jiggling his leg in synchrony. The clock was ticking away at him and he could almost hear it laughing at his impatience and reveling in his bored suffering. Algebra was his last class for the day and they had nothing going on so he spent a fair amount of time with his head in the arms trying to ignore the cold by being unconscious. But, as luck would have it, the chill of the school had woken him before the bell. Now all he could do to occupy himself was watch the clock. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Ten minutes left. He'd never make it.

"Hey, Al, what're you doing for vacation?"

Alfred stopped his tapping- however his leg had a mind of its own- and looked over to a brown haired boy seated to his left.

"What am I gonna do?" He reiterated.

"Yeah, what are your plans? You seem pretty antsy." The other boy asked again.

Alfred pursed his lips. "Well," he said, stretching his arms over his head. "I didn't really have any plans, I just want to get out of here. Why? Did you want to hang out? We could do that Antonio."

Antonio shook his head. "Sorry Alfred, we actually can't. I'm heading over to my second home in Spain to see mi familia."

"Oh." Alfred shrugged it off. "It's fine. I'll just hang with Mattie then. We just got a new video game I've been dying to try out."

"That sounds cool." Antonio said, packing up his bag at the same time.

"Yeah it is. It's a first person co-op RPG where you have to fight off these alien invaders." Alfred said animatedly. "What's happened is earth's defenses were breached somehow and you have to avoid crazy murderer conspiracy theorists who think some humans are alie-"

Alfred was cut off from his sentence by the bell, and almost immediately the class was out of the door, the teacher too. Antonio walked out the door of the classroom as soon as it rang, sending a goodbye to Alfred and hoping he has a fun vacation. Alfred blinked, jerkily picked up his own bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He practically jogged out of the building, adrenaline and excitement coursing through his body, but he regretted his hurry when the chilly winds hit his face outside.

The first thing Alfred did when he got home was toss his backpack into the closet, not even closing the door, and then dove straight into the couch. He buried his face into the pillow and inhaled deeply.

"What are you doing?"

Alfred sat up and turned around, meeting the gaze of his almost-doppelganger.

"Hey, Mattie, when'd you get home?" His twin brother had a bowl of chips with him as he came over to the couch to sit down.

"I got out early today, remember? I had a doctors appointment." He said, munching on a chip.

"I forgot about that." Alfred said, reaching over to grab a handful. Matthew pulled the bowl away as Alfred flopped forward. "How did it go?"

Matthew shrugged. "Same old same old. Except I gained a few pounds."

Alfred shook his head and patted his brother on the back reassuringly. "It's okay buddy, you just need to ease up on the maple syrup."

"I need to ease up?" Matthew scoffed, still holding the bowl out of Alfred's reach. He went in and pinched his brother's arm. "I hear you up at midnight all the time sneaking food from the fridge." Alfred leaned back and laughed, neither the pinch nor comment affecting him. "All right, all right. So what's first on the agenda?" he sighed. "We've got a whole two weeks to kill."

"Sorry Al, didn't mean to bump into you."

Alfred was laying on their ice covered driveway, a pained expression decorated his face and a hockey stick sat just out of his reach.

"Dude, that wasn't a bump, you creamed me." He groaned. Matt looked down sheepishly.

Alfred sat up carefully, sucking in air and rubbing his back as he went. "Oh yeah, I'm gonna feel that tomorrow." He winced. "And the day after."

His brother held out his arm and hoisted him up to his feet, giving him a moment to find his balance. Alfred shook himself out, took two puffs of breath and cracked his neck.

"Okay, as much as you deserve a penalty for that, let's skip it. I wanna keep playing." He picked up his stick and got into position. His brother nodded and mimicked his position, only a little more intensely. Alfred hunkered down a little lower. He squinted his eyes, breathing consciously. It was freezing outside and every exhale was a white, puffy cloud.

He adjusted his grip on his stick, flexing his fingers over the splintering wood.

He sprang forward after a moment, lunging for the puck, but his brother got to it first. Matthew swept to the side and skated with ease past the halfway mark onto Alfred's side. He aimed for the goal post- the end of their driveway- and slapped the puck.

It slid right past Alfred, making a beeline for the street. In an attempt to save it, he shot forward, focus completely zeroed in on the puck. He didn't hear Mattie calling out for him to stop, and he was going too fast before he realized his target had stopped when it hit a foot, and next thing he knew he slammed into another body, hitting his gut with their side and taking them down with him.

"Aaah! Get off me! Get off!" A voice shouted, and the figure laying perpendicular under Alfred flailed and wriggled around.

"Shit." Alfred breathed, pulling himself off the other person and helping them up. As they stood up, Alfred got a better look at them, and the first thing he noticed was a pair of angry, emerald eyes glaring at him.

"Please be more careful." the person sighed, suppressed frustration leaking into his tone. It was a man, with short and choppy sandy blonde hair and big angry eyebrows. Very angry eyebrows. In fact, Alfred was pretty sure they were sentient and supplying him with rage. Lines were printed on his forehead as he rubbed his right temple with a gloved hand. A letter hung loosely from his other fingers.

"Shit." Alfred repeated. "Sorry. I didn't mean to." The other man sighed in exasperation, nodding and gesturing for him to stop talking. He then bent down to pick up more letters that were scattered in the snow. Alfred followed his lead and helped him. He took an envelope laying in the snow to his right, and drew it to his face. On the front in bold print it read 'Arthur Kirkland'.

Arthur, huh?" He said to himself, but the other heard him as he picked up his head in response.

"Yes." He quipped, and took the envelope from his hands. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't read my mail." Alfred snorted and watched Arthur stand up.

"I won't."

The Briton murmured something that Alfred couldn't quite make out, and headed back into his house.

"By the way, I'm Alfred." He called out to him. Arthur made no indication that he heard him. "What's his deal?" Alfred grumbled, watching him shut the door.

"He probably just wants his privacy." Matthew suddenly chimed in, causing Alfred to jump. "Maybe we should go in now, it's pretty cold." He shifted in his skates. Alfred sighed and was about to protest but the honking of a car horn interrupted them. adjacent to their driveway and waiting in the street was their mom in her car, signalling for them to move. The boys packed up the hockey equipment laying around the area and moved it into the garage, heading into the house while their mother parked.

"What did that guy say when you were out there?" Mattie inquired, setting up their gaming console.

"Huh? Oh, he just told me to fuck off." Alfred responded, laid out on the couch with one leg on top of the other and his arms behind his head. Mattie looked at him with wide eyes. "Really?"

"He might as well have, it still would've carried his message across." Alfred shrugged. Matthew turned away to plug in the controllers. "Dibs on player one." Alfred grunted, shifting his position to sit upright. Matthew sighed and tossed him the controller. Alfred threw a fist in the air as the title sequence played. In the background he could vaguely hear his mother ascending their basement steps and opening the door.

"Alfred, could you please salt the driveway. It's really icy out." His mother called out from the kitchen. Alfred leaned back in the couch and groaned.

"Can I do it later? Mattie and I are playing a game." He shouted back.

"Technically we haven't actually started." His brother interjected quietly. Alfred just rolled his eyes.

"No, I nearly slipped and broke my damn neck, I want it done now." She answered.

"Fine." he said, getting up and grabbing his jacket and boots, then heading to the basement door. "It's not my fault it's slippery." He didn't mean for the words to actually come out of his mouth, but his mother heard them nonetheless. He braced himself for a tongue lashing but instead she nodded and ran her hands over her face. "I know, I know. I didn't mean for it to come out that way. I had a long day and I'm exhausted now." Alfred nodded. "Besides," she added, "you give me attitude all the time. I'm entitled to be snappy, especially when I've already asked politely."

Alfred descended the stairs of their basement and entered the garage. The car was parked a little snugly in the right side of the garage, and the other side was fairly empty save for sone bikes hanging on the racks. He grabbed the salt off the shelf and went outside, ducking under the door before it finished opening. "We don't have enough salt." He observed. The bag was a quarter full, and he knew they had another bag in the garage, but he wanted to get back to the game. He chewed his bottom lip before scanning the driveway. Most of it was melted, there were only a few patches of ice, but they could be easily avoided. Alfred made his decision and turned back to the door, tossing the empty bag into the garbage.

Alfred hurried to take off his coat and boots, leaving them in a messy pile in the foyer and bolting to the living, leaping on the couch and landing on Mattie.

"Shit, Al!" The longer haired boy whined. Alfred laughed boisterously, clambering off of him and picking up his controller. "Sorry Mattie, but the situation demanded it." Matthew rolled his eyes.

The sequence had ended after Alfred had gone out and the title screen was left on. The 'start' option blinked when Alfred went to click it. As the next sequence began, Mrs. Jones called down from upstairs. "Alfred did you salt the driveway?"

"Yes mom!"

"Did you do a good job?"

"Of course!" He was as good at lying at Mattie was at hockey, and Matt had an entire case of trophies to support it.

The game started up when their characters picked up a few household objects for weapons. Alfred's leg was bouncing up and down again and his tongue poked out to wet his lips.

But before his character could even leave the house, the sound of a thump came from outside, followed by a string of muffled curses and a loud "Oh my God!" from his mother. Mrs. Jones rushed down the stairs out of the house - well, rushing as cautiously as possible. Mattie had paused the game to look outside. Alfred turned around to check out the window, but it was covered in frost.

"I'll take a look." He told his brother and headed out the door.

When he got out there he heard his mother again. "Oh my God!" She repeated.

She was like a broken record the way she continued sputtering the phrase. But as she stood over a figure on the ground she covered her mouth in shock with one hand and the other was running through her hair.

"Are you all right?" She asked, and Alfred's eyes followed her line of sight. There, on the ground in the middle of a patch of ice, sat the scowling, bushy browed man, whose face express a certain degree of pain. "Ah." He hissed, when he tried standing up. "I think I'm all right-" he began, graciously accepting help up from Alfred's mother. "Thank you." From the looks of the dark, wet stain on his jacket Alfred assessed that he must have fallen back and hit his lumbar region.

"What happened? Did you fall? Where did all this ice come from?" Mrs. Jones said, nervously checking the spot for any signs of red dots. Alfred stood a few feet back, eyeing the scene with furrowed brows. His breath came out like puffs of smoke as he heaved a sigh.

"Yes, I did indeed slip." Arthur sighed, easing the pain in his lower back by making circles and applying pressure with his fingers.

"What were you doing over here?" Alfred asked, forcing himself not to stutter. He never visited them before, Hell he never visited any of the neighbors on this street. He was always in his own home or out in town. Why did he live here if he didn't bother with anyone?

Arthur frowned, squinting at him. "I came to give you your mail." He said, holding up a white envelope (which was now wet too) in a gloved hand. "The mailman gave me yours by mistake."

Alfred turned bright red, mostly from embarrassment, but he blamed it on the cold.

"I just don't understand." Mrs. Jones said. "I thought I had asked Alfred to salt the driveway." Her gaze turned over to her son as her sentence went on, and the blonde boy stood rigid.

"I did salt it." He rebutted, fidgeting under both their glares.

"Not well enough, I see." His mother said, punching the bridge of her nose. "Mr. Ah..."

"Kirkland." Arthur and Alfred said in unison. Alfred rubbed his arm when Arthur's green orbs flicked over to him.

"Yes, Mr. Kirkland, I'm terribly sorry, how badly are you hurt?" She asked.

"Nothing's broken, but I expect some bruising all right." Arthur winced as his hands grazed the spot above his bottom.

Alfred's mom nodded, awkwardly offering him some ice for it. Arthur declined, testing the pain as his feet shuffled off the patch. Mrs. Jones continued mumbling apologies and gibberish.

"-I don't think we could handle a lawsuit-"

Alfred stared at his mother, unsure of what to do in the situation. He had embarrassed himself enough already. He glanced quickly at Arthur and noticed him looking right back. But there was something in those green eyes of his, he was definitely thinking about something judging by his pursed lips.

"Actually, there is a possibility we could avoid the tedious process of a lawsuit. I am going to offer Alfred here a job, so to speak."

Mrs. Jones was snapped out of her ramblings when he spoke, quirking an eyebrow and cocking her head in confusion.

"It will of course be unpaid." He continued. "But I would like it if Alfred could come over and do a few chores for me, it would be a much more - convenient solution." As the words escaped his lips, Alfred struggled not to gape at him, but he ended looking partly like a fish.

"After the terrible job he did with our driveway?" His mother asked, brows furrowing to reveal the normally hidden lines on her forehead.

"I believe this will do good for him." Arthur said, eyes flicking over to Alfred. "Maybe this way he'll gain a better work ethic." Alfred's mother pondered the proposition for a moment, while Alfred stared bug eyed at the Brit. He swallowed when Arthur started rubbing the sore spot on his back and Mrs. Jones gave him a pitiful look.

"All right, it sounds like a fair deal to me." She said at last. Arthur smiled, or at least Alfred assumed that's what he did. His lips had a hint of a curve and his green eyes slit ever so slightly. Almost like a secret smile.

'He's out to get me.' The thought whisked through Alfred's head. His mother, an undeclared psychic, glared at him and cocked her head to Arthur. "I'm sorry you fell." He mumbled.

A sharp nudge to his side.

"I'm sorry for not doing a good job and because of it you got hurt."

His mother nodded. "Again, we're so sorry, Mr. Kirkland. Thank you so much for not pressing charges, and I promise you Alfred will do his best." Mrs. Jones smiled, and Arthur returned the gesture.

"Of course. I hope to see him tomorrow, 2:00 pm at the latest. If that works well with you." Arthur concluded.

"Tomorrow?" Alfred said. "But that's Saturday."

"Is that a problem?" Arthur asked, looking more to Mrs. Jones for confirmation than Alfred. The blue eyed boy looked pleadingly over at her as well.

Yes, it was a problem. His first official day of vacation being spent doing chores for some Boo Radley wannabe was definitely not on his to do list. Even if he didn't have actual plans, he sure as Hell didn't want to waste his time with Arthur.

"He's available then." she said, nodding in approval.

Alfred groaned inwardly, wanting nothing more than to sit back on the couch in the living room and forget this whole ordeal. His mother looked over to him and indicated that he go back into the house. Alfred nodded, his stomach knotting with nerves as a flash of rage passed through his mother's eyes. He shuffled back inside while Mrs. Jones stayed out to help Arthur back to his house, but the sandy blonde denied her assistance.

"I can make it on my own." He declared.

Still, she followed him to his mailbox. As soon as he went inside safe and sound, she cleared off the rest of the ice Alfred had missed.

When Alfred got into the house he slumped down on the couch, waiting for the storm called Nora Jones to obliterate him.

"So, what happened?" Mattie glanced over to him, searching his face for any clues to what had occurred, but Alfred sat pouting like a child with his coat still on and his fur lined collar pushed up to his mouth. He sniffed and dug his hands into his pockets.

"I hope you didn't have too many plans, because my funeral's been assigned." he muttered. Matthew raised his eyebrows and turned away from his mopey brother. Alfred stared down grumpily at his shoes.

This vacation was off to a terrible start.


End file.
